Like Fish Need Bicycles
by tielan
Summary: All the Avengers have asked Maria Hill out at some point.


**NOTES**: Avengers headcanon submission #2184 - All of the Avengers have asked Maria Hill out at some point.

******Like Fish Need Bicycles**

**Clint Barton: Playing With The Big Boys Now**

"Know anywhere to get a good burger around here?"

With her mind still on the briefing they've just left, it takes Maria a moment to comprehend what's been asked. "You're in Italy and you want a burger?"

Clint Barton shrugs well-muscled shoulders carelessly. "Tastes of home."

Almost all field agents have a ritual after a mission - something that tells themselves that they made it, they're home, and they can relax. Phil makes a point of knowing the routines and accommodating them where possible, and because he does, Maria does, too.

"Down the Via Nazionale, up the Via della Consulta, second street to the left, there's a _cucina _that does a reasonable burger if you ask nicely and mention that you're a friend of Phil's."

"And what'll I get if I mention that I'm a friend of yours?"

Maria looks up into a guileless face that, while not exactly Hollywood handsome, has more than its fair share of charm should he wish to utilise it. "They like Phil better," she says deadpan as they reach the point in the corridor where they should separate.

Barton tilts his head at her, his hand resting on the door that leads out towards the street. "And you won't come along and hold my hand?"

She supposes it's been heading towards this for a while – they both work with Phil and they've been seeing a great deal of each other lately. And yes, he's an interesting guy, and she has no doubt that those hands – very able with a bow and arrow - would be very good on her body.

But she's on the way up, and she's not willing to risk her career.

"You're a big boy, Barton," she tells him. "I'm sure you can handle yourself."

–

**Natasha Romanoff: Handle With Care**

It surprises her that Romanoff is so tactile at first.

A touch on her arm to get her attention. A smooth cheek close when reading over Maria's shoulder. The press of a foot under the table while in the mess hall. Hands on her neck and back after a rough mission, easing out the knots.

Maria freezes, caught between her body's relief at the pressure and her mind's sudden alarm as all the pieces come together. Gently, slowly, she puts her hand up and turns around – but only halfway. This isn't an invitation to continue and she doesn't want to give the Black Widow the wrong idea.

"No." She makes the words clear and crisp, so there's no room for misunderstanding. "This can't go anywhere."

"It's just a massage."

"Is it?"

Blue eyes don't look away – not quite – but they do drop to Maria's mouth. It's not 'just' a massage and they both know it.

"I appreciate the compliment," she says with more care than she'd use if a male agent had tried this. "But I can't be that for you."

"Is it because I'm a woman?"

"No." Natasha Romanoff is attractive, sensuous, and intriguing. She's also as deadly as her namesake, has a history of abuse that leaves Maria's own past begging for mercy, and is in Maria's care. "It's because you're the Black Widow, and an agent of SHIELD. And because I'm an agent of SHIELD and one of your handlers. I don't know how things worked in the Red Room, but that's not how they work here."

Romanoff eyes Maria as though not sure what to make of her. Then, after a moment, her expression softens fractionally. "You're not like the others."

A little giddy – Maria isn't immune to the compliment, nor is she unaware of the danger of refusing a beautiful assassin – she can't quite help a smile. "I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you."

–

**Tony Stark: Co-Operation Is The Game**

Tony Stark is exactly what Maria expected he'd be, based on Phil's reports and the intel they have on him from Colonel Rhodes: unspeakably charming, very intelligent, and rather more dangerous than he appears.

After all, a man who could come up with the Iron Man suit while imprisoned in a cave in Afghanistan is not someone to underestimate. Add money, charm, personality, and power, and he's a formidable individual.

"I thought I'd be dealing with Agent Coulson."

"Agent Coulson is busy." Phil suggested someone else deal with Stark for a while. Maria still isn't sure if that's because Phil will slap him for wrecking the carefully-planned announcement of the 'Iron Man bodyguard', or because he thinks she should have a go at managing a too-clever, too-charming, too-handsome, too-powerful man who's probably going to be involved with SHIELD one way or another considering his skills with technology and the existence of the Iron Man suit.

"So I get you instead." Stark whips off the sunglasses and surveys her up and down with the bold grin of a lifelong womaniser. "Do I get to keep you?"

Maria figures she can see the dangers of flirting with Stark well enough to ask, "Do I look like I can be kept?"

"I bet you scratch." His smirk makes it quite clear he likes the idea. Given the contents of the file S.H.I.E.L.D. has accumulated on him, Stark likes things that are a challenge. For sex, they have a pulse. For science, not so much. "Any chance I'm going to find out?"

There's a part of her that's charmed by his directness. No messing about, no coy looks, no tentative queries. Climb into bed with him and get the ride of her life.

On the other hand, she has no intention of joining the long list of Tony Stark's conquests. Not to mention that sleeping with him would be highly inappropriate behaviour towards personnel affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D.

Still, Phil found that straight lines don't always work for Stark – especially if he's not willing to work with the person in question, the way he is with Ms. Potts.

Maria figures it might be time to play the game differently.

"Co-operate during debriefing, Mr. Stark, and you'll have your chance to find out."

He's intelligent enough to know it's a 'no'. But Maria can see he likes that she's playing the game.

"I always co-operate when being debriefed by beautiful women." He saunters across to the chair she indicates. "Feel entirely free to debrief me at your leisure, Lieutenant."

–

**Bruce Banner: You And Me Makes Three**

The pot of Silver Needles tea is waiting for her when she sits down to the seventh weekly meeting with Dr. Bruce Banner in a tea-house in Tribeca.

"No marines this time?"

"They wanted to stay at the cupcake palace," Maria replies as the waitress brings the sticky little rice balls over without being asked, familiar with this meeting and this order after nearly two months. She doesn't mind the marines' defection too much – Banner may be inherently unstable, but he's mostly in control. And if he lost it, the marines wouldn't be able to help her anyway. "What's on your mind, Banner?"

"The fact that you never call me Bruce." He tilts his head and the smile that quirks his lips is not the self-deprecating one she expected to see on his face – this is nearly the grin of a man up to mischief. "And that today it's just you and me."

Maria stares. This one came out of left field. She's not about to let it pass. "Are you flirting with me, Dr. Banner?"

"It's not obvious?"

_Not until now. _"If I'd known this was a date, I'd have worn something nicer." She indicates her worn jeans and the Knicks jersey. "Although, if I'd known this was a date, I would also have said '_No_'."

"Not '_I'll see what I can do_'?"

"I don't beat around the bush. As you should know." Then, because she doesn't trust that smile, "Did Stark put you up to this?"

The smile vanishes, leaving him oddly stern. "Tony Stark has less say in my life than he believes he does. And, no, he didn't. This is all me."

"And the Hulk?"

"Maybe he's getting angry." His eyes flash green for a moment, the shadow of the Hulk looming behind the doctor's easy demeanour.

It startles her enough to make her blink, make her heart stutter – he's never done that to her before – but Maria plays it cool. "You want it straight, Dr. Banner? You might turn into a giant green rage monster, but I know one thing about you that I'm fairly certain trumps that."

"And that would be?"

"You're not a douchebag."

"I…" He blinks and the green vanishes. "Thank you? I think?"

"You wouldn't lose it over a woman rejecting you. Other things, perhaps, but not a refusal."

Amusement is back. "You're putting a great deal of trust in my character."

"Am I wrong?"

There's a moment when it looks like he might actually argue the point – too much hanging around Tony Stark. Then he sits back, with a rueful smile. "No. You're not."

He looks like he's about to say something more. Maria supposes they might as well get it out now as later. "What?"

"You're really making me wish you'd said yes."

–

**Thor: The Direct Approach**

It's close to dawn when Fandral finally rises and, bowing over her hand with florid elegance, pronounces himself charmed but outmatched. Thor rises to send him on his way, and Maria props up her elbow and stares out at the view of the city, hiking the long drape of her dress skirt up and out of the way as she curls her feet under her.

Thor returns to sits down on the other end of the couch, big and princely and utterly at ease with himself. "You have enjoyed the evening."

Maria quirks her brows at him, amused by the pronouncement. "Is that a question or a statement? Yes, I have. Your people know how to show a good time."

"And you have quite a gift for politics. In spite of your protests to the contrary."

"God, don't say that anywhere near Fury. Last thing I want is to be assigned to the diplomatic arm. Besides," she smiles, "your people are easy enough to deal with. Direct and to the point."

"You prefer the direct approach." Thor nods to himself as though unsurprised. "Very well."

He moves _fast_. One moment he's sitting on the other end of the couch, the next his mouth is on hers and his hand is cupping her head and his beard is surprisingly soft—

Maria pushes him away – shoves, actually, surprise and panic making her forceful. "What the hell was that? Thor?"

He sits back, surprised. "I imagined a kiss would make my intentions quite clear."

"And completely muddy the water!" Maria gapes, quite floored. "Aren't you and Dr. Foster seeing each other?" S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps track of such things, particularly since the link between Asgard and Earth was reinstated, and the last she heard, the relationship was progressing well.

Perhaps not so well as reported.

"We are." It's hard to tell in the lamplight, but it looks like he's blushing. "But I do not yet share her bed."

"So what made you think I'd want you to share mine?"

"You are single. Unattached. And…your people are fragile compared to mine, but you are strong – the Valkyries spoke highly of your fighting skills and—"

"Oh, sweet mother of God, wait." Maria holds up a hand to stop the babble. "Am I a _test run_?"

"I wished to get it right with Jane—"

"Stop right there." Maria isn't sure if she wants to sigh or laugh. "Thor, don't test run. Just do it."

"Just do it?" He sounds doubtful and, weirdly, nervous. A Norse god of fertility with performance anxiety? Maria couldn't make this up if she tried.

"Just do it."

–

**Steve Rogers: Of All The Gin Joints In All The World**

"Lieutenant?" The query yanks Maria out of the report analysis she's been studying and into the gaze of Steve Rogers. "May I have a moment?"

"You can have several. What can I do for you, Captain?"

He seems to square his shoulders, as though steeling himself. "Would you accompany me to the Presidential dinner tomorrow night?"

"Oh, I'm already going."

"I know." There's a pink stain creeping up from beneath his collar. "I meant...would you go as my date for the night? If you're not going with anyone else, that is."

Maria stares at him. "Why?" She winces at her bluntness. "I mean, I find it difficult to believe you can't find a better date, Captain."

His expression closes up and she has a moment to wonder what she's said, how she's insulted him. Then he floors her. "Another date, maybe, but not a better one."

Maria feels her cheeks and throat go hot. And he just stares right back at her, frank and open, completely unexpected, and more than a little unwelcome.

Since the Chitauri invasion, an entirely new term has come into the English language lexicon:_ supergroupie._ Stark's doing, of course. Clint quips that, with Stark's history, it's probably about half New York City by now – the female half. Natasha pointed out that there might very well be more than a few guys in there, too, given that it's Tony Stark.

Maria wonders if there's a term for someone who's a magnet for superheroes.

"Well," she says inanely, "that makes it six for six."

"What do you—? Oh." Rogers frowns, and she regrets the giddy slip of her tongue. Then his eyes widen. "_Oh._"

"Not—Not like Stark—not that way—I just—Oh, God."

"Oh, Steve Rogers, actually," he says, and now his mouth twitches. "I'm glad to see the others have good sense, at least."

"Or you all have terrible taste," she mutters, then flashes an uncertain look up at him. "Sorry."

"I'm not." The amusement's still lurking there, under the rueful twist of his mouth. "I understand if you don't want—I mean, I can see why—" He stop himself, takes a deep breath and lets it out. "I'll see you at the dinner, then?"

"Yes," Maria says, and watches him start to walk away. _Oh God, don't, no, really, don't, this is a bad idea-_ "Captain?" He turns and she lifts her chin. "I'll be at the Tower to pick you up at four. Quinjet bay."

Surprise turns to delight. "I look forward to it, Lieutenant."

He may not when he discovers it'll be the two of them...and Fury, Phil, and Jasper, with Natasha and Clint likely hitching a ride as well.

Still, the blush weighs Maria down all the way to the bridge.

**fin**


End file.
